Rain & Regret
by grey within black
Summary: They found me facedown in the street. HD


Title: Rain & Regret  
Genre: Deathfic (I love these boys, I really do!! )  
Summary: They found me facedown in the street, on the night you left to find another place to sleep, in rain and regret.  
Pairing: H/D  
Disclaimer: I do not own.

"What's that, Mommy?"

"Hmm? What?"

"That!"

"I can't see it that clearly, swe- oh dear. Don't look, honey."

A shower of red sparks illuminates the girl's face as it shoots into the sky. Murmur of more and more voices as a crowd begins to gather.

"Excuse me! Excuse me! All unauthorized personnel please clear the area. How's it looking, Healer Claire?"

"We tried everything." Hopeless shrug, "But it was no use. We were simply too late."

A head bows in respect, "May he rest in peace. I'll call the coroner. What was the cause of death?"

"A broken heart. The aortic valve seems to have shut itself off, therefore severely restricting the passage of blood."

"Can you identify the body?"

"Yes, it's—"

[rain®ret;

The cobblestones of the street are really painful, especially when you're facedown in it. But who would know such a thing except for drunks or dead people? It was a sad thing, Harry Potter mused to himself, that the last thing he would see of the world was dirty, rain slicked cobblestones and the last thing he would feel was pain. It was so very ignominious, the complete opposite of what the noble Harry Potter is, or is believed to be. Was, or was believed to be.

"He told me not to. That old man was always right, just like Hermione. Then again, I never listen to them, even when it concerns my life." Harry confided in the cobblestones, the source of his pain and his only companion. They made no reply.

[rain®ret;

"Professor Dumbledore? You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Harry. Please, take a seat. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please. Is there something wrong, Professor Dumbledore?"

"No, no. I just wanted to talk to you about romance."

"Romance?" Scrunch of nose.

Though in some cases he seems so adult, so mature, he really is still a child.

Dumbledore regards Harry over his glasses, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes, "Yes, romance. Love. Such is the stuff of dreams. Such is what makes living beautiful."

The plop of sugar cubes being dropped into tea, the clink of silver tea spoon against fine china, all background noises to his words.

"Harry, you know that our best theory of why you were able to survive the Killing Curse is because of the love of your mother, correct?"

"That's right." Dumbledore can tell that Harry is wondering what his scar has to do with romance and love. How can he know that his scar has everything to do with romance and love? The poor boy.

A sigh and a quiet sip of tea before continuing, "That is not the only reason you were able to survive. It isn't that dear Lily's love for you was greater than any other of Voldemort's victims. The amount of families he has killed far outnumbers the amount of individuals. When he means to punish someone, he also means to punish their family."

Shift in seat, slight lean forward, gentle furrowing of brow, "Then what is it?"

"Lily was an extraordinary student. Her spellwork was the greatest in Hogwarts for all the years she remained here. It is that strength in spellwork, combined with her love for you, which allowed you to live. The spell she cast, though allowing you to live, also had some conditions."

"What kind of conditions?" Harry listens with rapt attention, his tea untouched.

"You are living because of love, and therefore living for love. Did you not notice how much you grew after you came to Hogwarts? It was because you were finally receiving and reciprocating love. But, should your love ever be rejected, your life will end."

Harry stares, "What?!"

"Most simply put, I strongly advise against telling anyone that you love them."

[rain®ret;

"You're drunk, Malfoy."

"Oh, am I?" Draco leans forward to look challengingly into Harry's eyes, only to overbalance and tip over, falling into Harry.

Draco Malfoy drunk may just be the most beautiful thing Harry has ever laid eyes on. There is a flush riding high on those exquisite cheekbones and his eyes are unguarded and bright, seeming to invite Harry in. A tiny smile seems to play constantly about his lips, and the gel that normally holds his hair slicked back seems to have failed, letting his hair fall forward in disheveled disarray that seemed to scream for Harry to dishevel further. The fact that he was now lying on top of Harry didn't hurt, either.

"Yes. You're absolutely pissed."

Draco stares up into Harry's eyes, basking in the warmth of those green orbs. How anyone could be beautiful upside down, Draco didn't know.

Draco reaches up a hand, then lets it fall back down, "When people are drunk, their judgment is either impaired or nonexistent, right?"

"True."

"So if I do this--" Draco's hand slides under Harry's shirt to touch the golden skin underneath, relishing the tightening of the muscles under his fingers and the catch in his breath.

"Or this," Draco lifts his head up and presses a chaste kiss against Harry's scar, "I don't have to take responsibility, do I?"

Draco smirks up at Harry, only to be caught by the intensity of the look in Harry's eyes as he lowers his face to Draco's and whispers, his breath brushing as lightly as a soft kiss against his lips, "Do that again."

"This?" Draco kisses the scar again, applying a little pressure and tracing the zigzag line achingly slowly with his tongue. Draco delights in the moan that escapes Harry's lips and wonders what else he can do to get Harry to make such sounds.

[rain®ret;

Draco sighed, his head pillowed on Harry's chest, his hair now completely lacking any semblance of order. He curls up closer to Harry, his arms around Harry's small waist, inhaling the smell of Harry—like sunshine and fresh rain all at once.

"I love you."

"Mm."

Draco turns his face to look up at Harry indignantly, "That kind of demands a response, Harry."

But Harry's eyes are closed, his long eyelashes casting shadows on his cheek. His breathing is deep and regular, a small smile on his lips. Draco smiles too and leans up to give him a quick kiss before drawing up the covers around the two of them.

"I suppose I'll just wait for him to say it."

[rain®ret;

"I love you."

Harry makes no reply except for an absentminded smile, apparently absorbed in the crossword puzzle in his lap. Draco's feathery brows draw together and in three steps he has crossed the living room and is standing before Harry.

"I love you." Draco leans down, his face so close to Harry's that there is no possibility of Harry looking at anything else, "I. Love. You."

No response.

"I _love _you." His voice grows more insistent.

No response.

"I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU. " With each repeat of those three words, Draco's voice grows louder and louder, more and more intense.

"I love you." He has degenerated into sobs, sinking to the floor, kneeling in between Harry's legs. He clutches onto the soft silk shirt that he bought Harry, "I love your smile, your laugh. I love how you eat pretzels by sucking on them until they disintegrate into your mouth. I love how you look when you're concentrating on a Quidditch match. I love the way you fly. I love how you're completely helpless at poker. I love the look on your face when you come into my mouth. I love your sleeping face. I love you. Why, _why_ don't you say it back?"

His tears are soaking the shirt, his hands twisted so tight into the material that his knuckles have gone white. At a soft touch upon his cheek, he looks up, tears still crowding his eyes and making it seem as if Harry is also crying. Both of Harry's hands come up to hold Draco's face and he leans down until their foreheads are touching, Harry's tears falling on Draco's cheeks.

"I'm sorry, Draco. I'm so sorry. I love you. I love you too. I can't live without you." Harry slides out of the seat onto the floor, holding Draco tightly and whispering "I love you" over and over into his hair.

[rain®ret;

Draco recognizes the owl as Severus Snape's, the markings around its eyes and the distinctive black and white pattern of its wings unique to the type of owl used only by the Snape family.

"The Dark Lord is beginning to suspect. He has cast a spell on you so that your skin and words are poison to him. You have to leave him. Now."

[rain®ret;

"Where are you going, love?" The tone lazy and slightly confused as the dark-haired boy fumbles for his glasses.

There is no reply, only the glint of moonlight off blindingly white-blond hair.

"Draco, wait! What's going on?" Scramble for clothes.

The sound of the doorknob turning and the door closing.

"Draco, stop!" Panic surging upward, choking the dark-haired hero.

The sound of the door opening again and of bare feet pounding against the cobblestones. The small pop of a person Apparating away. The feet pounding against the cobblestones slow, then stop altogether. The heavy thud of knees hitting the floor hard, then the heavier thud as the torso falls forward, as the body falls, face down in the street.


End file.
